The Garden of Evil
by actressen
Summary: In which Pepper takes over for Coulson temporarily and the Avengers face a new foe. Mostly GEN, with hints of Pepper/Tony.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

For Ryan Matthews, a life-long lover of comics, getting an internship working under Director Fury for SHIELD had seemed like a dream come true.

But now he wasn't so sure.

Because while he loved the idea of working with superheroes, he also loved the idea of keeping his head, and he wasn't sure if the two could coexist for much longer.

Ryan knew that Director Fury had already had a bad day (although it was only nine in the morning). First, the coffee machine had broken. Second, a leak had caused some issues in the labs which ended in Dr. Banner getting his Hulk on, and, similarly, several thousand dollars' worth of damages. Then, a new agent unwisely attempted to wake Agent Romanoff from a catnap, resulting in injuries severe enough to warrant a trip to the ER.

And now, Tim, the security officer with the morning shift at the front desk, had called to tell him the redhead was back.

Which meant that Ryan had the decidedly unpleasant job of informing Fury of the current situation, because, according to protocol, any loiterers who returned for more than a week in succession had to be reported to the head agent.

Never before had he been so tempted to throw the rulebook to the wind.

Knocking hesitantly on the doorframe, Ryan wondered why he hadn't taken Agent Williams' advice and drawn up a will.

Fury glared at him expectantly.

Ryan gulped.

"Sir, there's a, uh, situation."

Don't look at the eye patch don't look at the eye patch don't look at the eye patch _shit!_ You just had to look, didn't you? Did he see you?

Fury's eye narrowed to a slit.

Yeah, yeah he saw you. Nice knowing you man. _Nice knowing you, too_, Ryan responded to the voice in his head, before deciding that he should also consider taking up his mother's suggestion to see a shrink.

Assuming that he, you know, survives the next few minutes.

Focusing on Director Fury again, Ryan realized that Fury was reaching for something in his desk.

Oh shit, the gun! No, no, no, no, this was _not _how this was supposed to go. He's only _nineteen_, for christssake!

Ryan put up his hands defensively.

"Hold on there, sir—no need for weapons," he stammered, before adding a rather pathetic "please?"

"Maybe if you informed me of the situation instead of blabbering on, I could decide that for myself. And sit down, dammit, all your twitching is making me nervous."

Ryan did as he was told.

"There's a redheaded young woman who's been loitering outside of SHIELD for several hours every day for a week now, requesting entry."

"That's it?"

Ryan nodded, feeling rather stupid all of a sudden.

"Yessir, you see protocol says—"

"I _know _the protocol." Fury snorted. "I _wrote _the motherfucking protocol."

"Begging your pardon, sir. But what would you like me to do about the redhead?"

"Send her to Coul—" Fury began to reply automatically before remembering that Agent Coulson was dead. The little shit (may he rest in peace) was probably looking down on him and laughing.

Then, all of a sudden, inspiration hit him.

"Tell her to come back tomorrow. Also, get Agent Stark on the phone for me."

"Tony Stark?"

"Is that not what I said?

"Uh, yes, sir. I'll get to it right away."

And with that, Ryan left, deciding to get away before he managed to say anything else idiotic.

* * *

"No."

"It really isn't up to you, Tony."

Tony Stark put down the iPad he was reading to rub his temples.

"Uh, yeah, Pepper, it really is."

"I've already made my decision, Tony. I was just being courteous and letting you know."

"Pepper…"

"Don't you 'Pepper' me. It's not like I'm leaving, Tony. I'm just doing my job times six. Except, not really, because Nicholas told me you're by far the worst."

Pepper stood in front of him defiantly, her hands on her hips. Looking up at the scowl on her face, he knew he _so _wasn't getting any that night. Not even thirteen percent, like he did that other time.

"Hold up, _Nicholas_? As in _Fury?_"

Pepper nodded exasperatedly.

Nicholas. That was even worse than calling Coulson 'Phil'. Maybe he should try that one out himself. But only with the suit on, because dying was so not part of the plan.

"Only you," Tony finally said, before continuing. "Need I remind you, though, of what happened to Coulson?"

"First of all, Tony, Loki is on Asgard receiving his punishment—as you _already _knew."

Tony smiled fondly at the memory. After teaching Thor to use a camera without breaking it (it took a while), he had gone to Asgard and taken photographs of Loki, his lips sewn shut, his hands and feet in shackles, looking like a macabre statue (he even had the coloration of marble—dude could seriously use a tan). Tony hung his copy of the photograph in a place of honor (removing, much to Pepper's displeasure, a painting from her beloved Modern Art Collection done by Francis Something-or-other which had hung there previously. It was a seriously creepy painting too—he wouldn't miss it. Or actually, he didn't get a chance to miss it, because Pepper had hung it up in their bedroom in retaliation.)

"Thirdly, I would only be taking up some of Phil's responsibilities. The non-dangerous ones. Like filling out reports and filing and all the things I do already."

Oh shit. Pepper was still talking. What had her second point been? Damn, he hoped there wasn't a quiz after this.

"Lastly, it would only be temporary. One of my responsibilities would be helping SHIELD find a suitable permanent replacement for Phil."

"But Pepper—"

"Were you even listening to me?"

"Yes."

Okay, even he didn't think that sounded convincing.

"Enough to get the gist of it," he amended.

"Then why are you still arguing with me?"

"Because, Pepper—"

The woman in question threw up her hands in frustrated defeat and moved to leave the room.

"Fine then, Tony. But you get to fill out your _own _reports from now on."

Tony could hear her heels clicking against the marble floors of the hallway.

"Wait, reports? What reports? Pepper? I think I might have changed my mind. Pepper?"

He quickly got up from his desk and went running after her.

Fighting moody Gods of Mischief and alien armies was one thing but paperwork was one thing that Tony Stark just did _not _do.

* * *

**AN: **This fic will have a sequel (already in the works), dealing with Coulson's replacement. He is a character familiar, I am sure, to many of you. So we're going to play a little guessing game. **Leave a guess of who Coulson's replacement is in your review, and if you get it right, I'll PM you to let you know and you'll get a shoutout in the next chapter**. But, to keep it interesting, let's limit it to **one guess per review.** Each chapter will also contain a hint. This chapter's hint:

He is _not _a character from the Marvel Universe or any other comic.

So guess away!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

A nervous-looking young man informed Cassandra of Fury's decision.

"Tomorrow?" she repeated, just to be sure.

The young man (an intern, clearly) nodded.

"What time?" She hadn't spent hours waiting outside SHIELD Headquarters each and every day to be blown off now.

The intern scratched the back of his head.

"He failed to, erm, specify."

Cassandra looked over her shoulder anxiously.

"I'll be here at noon. Exactly," she told him, before disappearing.

As in, she literally _disappeared. _One second she was there, and the next she wasn't.

Ryan stared at the spot where Cassandra used to be concernedly, wondering if SHIELD employees had an increased risk of mental illness.

* * *

Cassandra reappeared in her room in a cheap, dingy motel only a few blocks over from SHIELD headquarters. She really had no reason behind the display other than to pique the interest of the intern sent out to dismiss her, in hope that such a show would lower the risk of them blowing her off tomorrow. (Also, it was kinda fun to show off.)

Really, the display had little more substance than a Vegas magic show. Although technically a "mutant", she was just a one-trick pony. And even her teleportation was limited to about a half mile radius, no matter how hard she tried. But there was no denying that, sometimes, it came in handy.

She sat down on the edge of the lumpy twin bed with a grimace. The walls and the patchy carpet were stained and yellowed from smoke, the lone armchair in the corner of the room was torn in places, with a spring exposed, and the bathroom was already occupied by a family of cockroaches. Big, New York City what-steroids-are-they-on sized cockroaches that were more likely to laugh at a boot than be crushed by it.

The wobbly bedside table was occupied by a lamp which had not seen a light bulb in a long time and a branch of flowering holly, which had certainly not been there when she left. Her heart rate picked up slightly as she reached over to pick up the plant, destroying her faint hope that it had been an illusion of sorts.

"How'd you find me?" Cassandra asked calmly as a woman emerged from the shadows. With her petite frame, platinum blonde hair styled in a pixie bob, and a scattering of freckles across her pale nose and rosy cheeks, she would have looked like a fairy from a story book, if not for the tight forest green jumpsuit she wore and the dangerous glint of her large hazel eyes.

"Cassie can't keep a secret, " the newcomer said, perching on the edge of the armchair. "Particularly not when there's money involved."

Cassandra knew she should have seen that one coming.

"How much was my life worth?"

The woman in the armchair chuckled.

"Twenty-five dollars and a manicure." She paused. "I guess I don't have to tell you, then, why I'm here."

"Assuming nothing has changed drastically in my absence, I would have to guess that you're here to kill me."

"Right on both accounts."

Cassandra sighed, reaching tentatively for the stiletto sheathed in her boot.

"You don't have to do this, Ana."

"Oh, and why is that?" Anat leaned forward, casually resting her chin on the palm of her hand.

"Join me. We could do it Ana, we really could."

Anat seemed amused more than anything else.

"We have at least a week before James cops on and sends someone else. We could be _anywhere_ by then. Just think about it. _Anywhere_. Isn't there anywhere you want to go? Isn't there some place you want to see?"

"I go where I'm told, unlike some."

"I couldn't live like that anymore, Ana."

Anat's amused gaze turned chilly. "And what would 'that' be, Cassandra?"

Cassandra smiled sadly.

"A monster, Ana. Don't you see? That's what we're becoming. That's what _he_ is turning us into. Monsters."

Anat chuckled darkly.

"Oh little Cassandra, when will you learn? All those 'good' people, those 'innocent' bystanders? They're the real monsters. _They _are the ones who created us."

"You're wrong."

"I'm wrong? Do you even _know _what the world out here is like? I bet you don't even remember your life before James found you. Well I do," she said harshly. "Whatever little fantasy you've cooked up, I can promise you it's not what you'll find out there."

"What did they do to you?"

Anat sneered.

"Typical. Everyone assumes it's what people do that causes the damage, when it's really what they _don't_." She paused. "It's not the names people called you that do the lasting damage, it's all the times they didn't call. It's all the times the phone didn't ring, all the invitations you didn't get, all the kind words you needed that were never heard. But you wouldn't know about that, would you?"

Cassandra could see her reaching for her dagger, removing it from the holster around her waist. She tightened her grip on her own weapon and braced herself. She tried to think of a response that would calm Anat down, but couldn't come up with any that couldn't as easily end up doing the opposite, so she waited.

She momentarily considered teleporting, before a hand on her wrist snapped her from her thoughts. Anat had taken advantage of her momentary distraction and, using one hand to grip Cassandra's wrist and the other to hold her dagger to her throat, Cassandra was left immobilized.

Anat saw the stiletto in Cassandra's clenched hand and smirked.

"Drop your weapon."

Cassandra did as she was told and the stiletto landed with a small thud on the carpet.

"Last words?"

Cassandra considered what she would say carefully, wincing as the blade began to dig into her skin.

"I'm sorry."

Anat adjusted her position so that she and Cassandra were face to face. She still held the knife to her neck but had not made any move to kill her, so Cassandra decided to push her luck a little further.

"I'm sorry, on behalf of all those people who never did what they should have. I'm sorry on behalf of the people who never called." She paused. So far, so good.

"But maybe there are good people out there, too. And I just want a chance to find them."

Anat looked at her with an expression that was maddeningly unreadable before lessening the pressure on the dagger digging into her flesh. Cassandra suppressed the wave of relief that tried to flow through her, knowing she wasn't quite out of the blue.

"And I'm sorry for the headache you'll have tomorrow."

Before Cassandra could even try to comprehend what she was saying, Anat's fist made contact with her face and she knew no more.

* * *

**AN: **This chapter's hint about Coulson's replacement:

_He is **not **the main character of his source material_.

So guess away! (Remember, please keep it constricted to one guess per review).

Also, if there are any of you out there reading, I'd love to here from you. Even if you don't like it. Reviews (like any fanfiction author will tell you) are just like electronic 'squee's and warm fuzzies and all the good things in life. So drop a review if you can.

Thanks!


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